Wave Motion
by BioKraze
Summary: Time flows like a river, and history repeats itself. When the Nanex Imperiuum rises, mankind and Irkenkind must unite to defeat their common foe...
1. The Dying Hope

Invader Zim_, its concepts and personalities are copyrighted by Nickelodeon/Viacom. _X-COM: UFO Defense_, its concepts and personalities are copyrighted by Atari, Inc. I, _BioKraze_, own nothing save the original plot of this fanfiction, Katrina Gallagher and the Nanex Imperiuum. Please ask me first if you wish to use either of these concepts in your stories._

Silence. Endless silence. Only the faint hum of machinery could be heard in the long, dark hallways. Slumped in a purple chair, Invader Zim stared hard at a transmission screen. The screen was pitch black, but in the Stygian depths the Irken could see the taunting face of the Almighty Tallest, telling him what he had denied for the longest of aeons.

He was a defective.

He was a failure.

He was the scum of the Empire.

Tallest Red's words had been harsh and hateful, destroying Zim's morale and what his whole life had been about for the past five years. Defect. Failure. Disaster. Those words and worse had ripped into Zim with the fury of a thousand hungry Vibroblades, ripped deep into his psyche and torn apart his sense of self. In a fit of rage and misery, he had retreated to the safety of his space fortress, the Irken Crescent. He had been slumped in his chair for almost three weeks now, and even GIR's best efforts to rouse his master had failed.

If Zim had been of a more rational mind, he would have noticed that Tallest Purple never said a single thing. He would have noticed that the amethyst eyed dictator had seemed...cowed, somehow. What could do that to an Almighty Tallest? Zim didn't know, and as far as he knew, he couldn't care less.

Zim truly believed, thanks to Red's terrible tirade, that he was an exile, a washed up never-was. He was no Invader, he was no Irken. He was simply Zim, the alien without a race or home to call his own. His life held no purpose, if it ever possessed such a thing. How could he have been so blind? Was it truly his Pak? Was it a genetic error in the smeeting tube? Was he destined for greater things, as he had believed his entire life? Or was he simply marked for the sooty chute of history's incinerator?

The Crescent had been silent now for almost a week. Whatever had happened to GIR, MiniMoose and even Skoodge, Zim didn't know and didn't care. The once short Irken, who had unexpectedly grown to the height of five feet and six inches, cared less about the world and his position in it as every minute passed. He began to think of self destruction. He began to think of all his failed plans, and most of all, he began to think of his mortal enemy, the sickle haired Dib.

What Zim didn't think about was what he could do for both mankind and Irkenkind. What he didn't think about, and what he never would have realised on his own, was that he was the key to the most terrible struggle the Irken Empire would face.

For once in the ex-Invader's life, Zim simply didn't care...


	2. The Mysterious Agent

Dib threw his knapsack onto the unmade bed and flopped into the computer chair. Three weeks had gone by without a trace of Zim, and many believed that he had simply left for greener pastures. Even Gaz believed that the Irken Invader had gone for good. Dib, though, knew that Zim wouldn't leave Earth until the two had had their final accounting. The only thing they agreed upon was unspoken and manifest: the war for Earth would not end until the other died. It was Zim's job to take the planet for the Irken Empire, and it was Dib's job to save the planet from the upstart Invader. The disappearance of Zim from hi skool was simply another worrying gap, one that the sickle haired investigator believed that meant some hideous plan for the human race.

With no trace of Zim, GIR or that strange purple moose that had taken to accompanying him for the past four or so years, Dib figured that it was a waste of time to spy on the Invader's base. Zim would show up when he was good and ready. Besides, the teleporters that once led to his space fort were all destroyed somehow, and even Dib's skill with the mysteries of Irken technology had yielded negative results upon trying to repair the things.

He logged on to the only forum he frequented. While the other members of the Swollen Eyeball Network refused to listen to Dib speak about his little alien, they were more than interested in hearing about tales of the paranormal from the junior agent. The only person he continued to speak about Zim to was the only agent he had met in person, Darkbootie. He had heard of another junior member who was pursuing aliens, one by the name of Red Shift. Dib had been wanting to contact the person, but the individual seemed to be evasive about their contact with other agents.

Quickly scrolling through the boards, Dib noted that there was nothing new in the past week. He did, however, have a private message waiting for him. Curious as to who would leave him a private message, as very few agents used the system, Dib clicked on the title, which simply read "URGENT NEWS!" The sender seemed to have covered their tracks quite efficiently, and the message seemed to be encrypted with one of the network's privacy keys.

These new keys were assigned to each agent, and agents could submit new passwords to be coded as privacy keys by one of several privacy algorithms. An encoded message could only be broken by a combination of agent name and any of a hundred passwords devised by the agent.

Dib looked at the password prompt, and entered the first thing that entered his head: ZIM. Within seconds, the code was cracked and the message revealed to the sickle haired young man. The message was brief and revealed questions without giving definite answers.

_"You are the only person I trust with this information. The aliens are coming back for the third and final battle. If you are as dedicated as they say, meet me at Heathrow Airport in forty-eight hours of this message. RED SHIFT."_

Dib stared. Heathrow Airport? The mysterious Red Shift lived in England? He sat and considered his options. He had the money to survive in another country from the extravagant allowances their father had grown used to granting them, and summer vacation was close enough that he could skip the rest of the year. All he needed was a plausible excuse from skool, and he could simply drop his dad's name into the mix. Who would dare question the methods of Professor Membrane, anyway?

For once in quite a while, Dib smiled. A challenge had been presented, and he was up for the task. Humming a strange little tune he picked up from GIR, he set about packing some clothes and a few of his devices. Grabbing his beloved laptop, he turned off his computer, closed the bedroom door and took off for the garage. It seemed like Tak's old Spittle Runner would serve its purpose for the first time in years...


	3. The Imminent Battle

Far off in the reaches of the Universe itself, the assembled might of the Irken Armada surrounded and protected their mother craft, the infamous Massive. Thousands of Spittle Runners and Shuvvers flitted about the gargantuan bulk of the fleet destroyer, while the slower Ring Cutters and Viral Tankers glided close alongside, taking shelter from the great hull of the Irken flagship.

Aboard the Massive, the Almighty Tallest of the Irken Empire were trying to make sense of a message sent by an outpost on the very periphery of the Irkens' iron fist. The message, a distress signal sent out by a technician whose squeedlyspooch laid in a mangled heap on the floor millions of parsecs away, was short and to the point:

_"Emergency signal activated 0352 hours. Irken outpost on Boodie Nen under attack by alien organisms. Unable to identify attackers. Request for assistance required immediately!"_ A complete memory dump and purge of the outpost's central core revealed impossible creatures to be the source of the attack. The security cameras showed gunmetal grey crabs ripping apart computer systems and attacking Irkens. Some of the Irkens were bloated, their eyes dull with death. Amongst it all, creatures with fearsome faces and serpentine bodies fired plasma bolts at anything and anybody that was Irken in nature. It was too late for the outpost, and the Empire knew it.

Minutes after the Irken distress signal was received, the computer beeped once more. A technician spoke without turning from his station. "Incoming transmission from an unknown source." Red stared at the view screen, his red eyes burning with fury. The view screen revealed a strange creature. It looked like it possessed a human's frame, but the entire body was cloaked by a saffron robe and cowl. The creature's bright white eyes stared intently at the Irken dictators, hatred and disgust all too clear in the colourless slits.

Red spoke first, as he was wont to do when another race made a transmission. "Identify yourself!" he commanded.

The creature seemed to regard the Irken contemptuously before speaking. When it did, it had the hollow tone of death to it. "I am Torsan Ellery, Emperor of the Great Nanex Imperiuum. You, my dear Irken Tallest, are the first of many conquests I intend to make during my rule.

The assault upon your pitiful military installation went smoothly, as I intended for it to happen. Expect no quarter to be given, my dear Irken Tallest." Red's eye twitched every time the creature referred to him as dear.

"Your empire shall crumble before the assembled might of my Imperial Armada, as so many others have. Three of your Invaders have already fallen to my people, and I fully expect the others to follow suit." Tor seemed to grin, though with the cowl about his head, the crimson eyed Tallest couldn't be sure.

"You may make your move as you please, my dear Irken Tallest, but remember that any move you make shall surely be your very last. I bid you farewell, and expect to meet you soon enough, my dear Irken Tallest..." Tor gestured, and a pale withered hand poked out from beneath the robe. It seemed like a monumental effort for the alien emperor to move his hand, but move it did, and the transmission line was cut.

For once in his long life and rule as an Almighty Tallest of the Irken Empire, Red feared...


	4. The Meeting at Manchester

Deep in the dreary English night, the rain lashed the buildings and the landscape with an intense indifference to anything or anybody that sought shelter from the heavy night storm. The weather was contrary to the usual clime of the region, and how it manifested without a trace of preparation was anyone's guess.

Thankfully, the storm kept curious eyes from locating the modified Irken craft that Dib had "inherited" from Tak and her heinous scheme for world domination. Landing the Spittle Runner on the soft greensward, he emerged from the craft, instantly soaked to the bone by the raging storm above. With a look of fierce determination, he moved toward a small wooden shack to the north.

The shack was more the size of a medieval hovel. Smoke poured from a stove pipe attached to the side, and a dim light emerged from the single hole that marked where a window should have been framed. The building was quite an uninspiring structure altogether, but the sickle haired investigator was sure that his destiny would meet here.

Only an hour into the flight, Dib's laptop received another message from the mysterious Red Shift. Like the other, it required a password to crack the network encryption. Dib had typed in IRKEN, and the decrypted message showed itself to his eyes only:

"_Meeting at Heathrow Airport change. Meet me at the Manchester shack. GPS coords to follow. RED SHIFT." _Dib made the necessary course corrections and had found himself only 500 feet away from the shack Red Shift had referred to. Gathering up his suitcase and laptop, Dib set out for the dimly lit abode. He found himself before the seemingly flimsy door, pondering whether a good knock would send it flying off its hinges. With an internal shrug, he knocked three times. A young female voice rang out from within.

"Coming!" The sound of slippered feet upon old wood, and a panel in the old door opened. Twin eyes as green as the pine forests north of Lake Spooky peered out from their hiding place. The owner of the eyes gasped in surprise. She couldn't believe that he had come at last, actually answered her summons.

"Mothman!" The door unlocked from within, and the flimsy wooden panelling opened to reveal at last to Dib the one called Agent Red Shift. Standing at least as tall as Zim before he had fled the Earth, she had a sylphlike frame. Her long walnut hair cascaded down to the small of her back. Her pale skin glowed with an unearthly aura, her piercing green eyes seeming as if they could look straight into Dib's soul. She wore a rough grey dress and worn but serviceable slippers, whose once bright pink had worn into a weathered neutral tone.

"Come on, get in here! You're completely soaked!" The girl dragged Dib in and slammed the door. The young paranormal enthusiast looked about the shack. A kerosene stove provided the heat, while a hurricane lamp on the wall provided the light. The rain battered an old roof of corrugated aluminum, while the only seating was a pair of damaged bucket seats, salvaged from dead cars.

The girl handed Dib a towel. She spoke softly, though her accent was sharp, reminding him greatly of Tak. "I'm sorry about the accommodations, but I've been living alone for the past few months. Besides, I've seen it all before. Go ahead and towel yourself off; I'll finish dinner." She then turned and moved back to the stove.

Dib stared, then shrugged mentally once more and undressed in front of the girl. Wasting no time, he dried his soaked body off and rubbed the towel through his hair. As he did so, the waterlogged sickle sprung back to life. He opened his suitcase and withdrew a dry set of clothing. He paused when he heard a pot lifted from the stove, and turned to look at the girl.

She was looking at his naked body, her eyes and body carefully neutral. A moment passed, then she set the pot on a great wooden spool. She dragged one of the car seats to the table, then sat waiting. Dib finished dressing and joined her at the table. The two of them stared at each other, before the bespectacled boy broke the silence.

"Okay," he started, "you know about me and Zim. Who are you, Red Shift? Why did you contact me, of all the agents? What's so special about me that you dragged me here from America to talk?" His eyes glittered dangerously, as if he was angry at her evasive messages.

The girl shifted in her seat eating the burnt and rubbery noodles she had prepared for herself. Her eyes came out of focus, as if she were looking for the right answer to begin with. Her eyes snapped back as she found the right note to start upon, and she began to speak to Dib.

"My name is Katrina Gallagher. You can call me Kat for short. I've been following the progress of mankind for several years, not to mention your stories of alien incursion on the forums." She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "Six years ago, I stumbled upon a secret government database referring to an abandoned project called X-COM. The project was the first true knowledge of an alien incursion I had ever seen. It appears that the aliens this military group fought during the onset of the twenty first century are attacking mankind for the third time in as many centuries."

Dib stared. "What? We humans have fought aliens before? Why didn't I ever find out? When did these wars happen?" Silently he thought. _No wonder people don't believe me. They don't even remember what had happened to them in the past._ He grew a bit angry. _Perhaps we should begin documenting our history like we used to..._

Katrina paused once more, then took a deep breath. "These aliens attacked from an outpost in the Cydonia region of Mars. The first war was fought for almost three years. A second war was fought beneath the waves of our own seas almost fifty years later. It took mankind and X-COM six years to win this second war. And now, I have found that they are attacking for vengeance, thanks to my skill around computers and my great secret."

Dib nodded. So she understood the great need to protect the human race. She had the drive, the determination, to stand up against the wall and shout foul. He believed that she could've taken Zim on and come closer to victory than he ever did. She knew of alien invasions and, more so than he, what people would do when they were faced with the threat of genocide, and Hollywood be damned.

"So what do you need me for, Katrina? Aren't there others like us, searching for their own aliens? Why did you summon me here?"

Katrina winced. Obviously the question brought back a painful memory. "Let's just say that the aliens took something from me, and I demand an accounting. In any case, this is a very serious and perhaps deadly thing I require of myself and others.

"I need your help, Dib Selane. Nobody on the forums believes me and my discovery. You and I are the only people that know of these aliens." Katrina looked at Dib sideways. "Surely you would believe that Zim is not the only alien to take interest in our world?"

Dib leaned forward. "What do you propose we do, then?"

Katrina brought out a map of the United Kingdom and its territories. "Seven months ago, I located an old X-COM outpost that was never demolished. The technology dates back to the twenty-first century, and the computer core is intact. Using the facilities by remote, I discovered that these aliens are preparing to invade a third and final time. I need you to help me gain Zim's help and the aid of others. I need your talents to aid me in destroying the alien scourge that is soon to fall upon our fair planet." Her eyes glittered with anger, hope and another emotion that Dib couldn't place nor define.

"I need you to help me revive X-COM..."


	5. The Council of War

There was no denying what the Irkens now faced. It was a full scale war against the greatest enemy they had faced since the nefarious shapeshifting Trill. The Nanex Imperiuum was well trained, and now battleships raided Irken firebases with a frightening degree of success. They never took prisoners, instead killing all those they came across. An entire squad of Megadoomers and Maim Bots had been devastated by a troop of bipedal robot soldiers and their deadly laser cannons, resembling mechas in their forms. The terrible robots had been led by the orange cloaked aliens, who never spoke a word to their mechanical charges.

Irkens by the hundreds had been slain by a variety of aliens and alien weapons. From massive shaggy beasts that ripped soldiers to shreds and those horrible crab aliens that turned Irkens into zombies, to impossibly alien plasma weapons and even more impossible cases of Irkens acting in the aliens' interests. Even though these traitors cut down their own, it didn't save them from total annihilation at the hands of the Nanex Imperiuum and its devastating army.

In space, thousands of Spittle Runners, Rippers and Ring Cutters fell to the deadly plasma weapons of the alien battleships and dreadnoughts. The wreckage of several intercept divisions and at least an entire air wing had been scattered across airspace that once belonged to the Irken Empire.

Tallest Red couldn't understand why the Nanex chose to strike the Irken Empire and its holdings, but he understood the dire situation they now found themselves in. Nobody in the entire Empire had managed to fend off an Imperial attack, and the losses continued to pile up like scrap heaps on Dirt.

"What do any of you know about these Nanex people?" The council of war, being held in the main conference room of the Massive, included the Almighty Tallest and several of their advisors. Three Control Brains bore witness to the primary planning stage, assessing the information and gathering reports from Irken footholds that continued to fall under the onslaught of the Nanex Imperiuum.

One advisor spoke, his hand pointing to a number of red dots on the view of the Empire's outer regions. As he spoke, many of the still green dots flickered to red. "My Tallest, the Imperiuum seems not to be a single race, but a number of races working in tandem. Each race has its good and bad points, but this is balanced out by the fact that they combine two races for every major assault on our people."

Another advisor, this one a female, picked up from the other. "Already we have lost several planets conquered during the early phases of Operation Impending Doom 2. The loss of several of our best Invaders to the enemy has only lowered the morale of the defending forces. I believe that we may have to resort to extreme measures to defeat the Imperiuum..."

Red stared hard at the advisor. "What kind of measures are we talking about here?"

The advisor fell silent. Turning to the others, she seemed to not want to speak her mind. "Well...I, um...er..."

Red turned to the silent and morose Purple, who had seemed out of touch with reality lately. Was it something the crimson eyed Irken had done? Why was Purple not speaking as much as he used to? Red silently wondered about his co-dictator, but found that he held no worries about the situation. If Purple refused to put in his two monies, then all the better for Red.

It was at that precise moment that Red thought about Purple's withdrawal from everything that the Tallest in question spoke up.

"What about Zim?" The advisors and Red turned to stare at Purple, aghast at his bold suggestion. As the advisors turned their eyes away from their amethyst eyed leader, Red stared hard at Purple.

"What the hell do you mean, man?" he snarled. "Of all the worst case scenarios, this takes the cake! Zim would be the last thing we need in this shitstorm of a war! It's bad enough he almost wrecked Irk! Why do we need such a useless defective for our needs?"

Purple's eyes glowed with an intensity that made Red fear for his co-Tallest's sanity. When he spoke, it was in a quiet voice that he had not heard in centuries. Perhaps he never thought of the amethyst eyed Irken ever getting so angry that he spoke in such a whisper.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up! Zim may not be the wisest choice for defending our race, but whether we hate him or not, he's all we have now! We have so few live Invaders that he wins the title by default! Besides, he may have information and experience from Earth that we don't.

"I don't care what the Control Brains may think of my decision, and I very much doubt they could come up with a war strategy in time to save the Irken race! As much as you hate him, _Zim is our only hope!_ If you don't call him and apologise for what you said to him, then I'll contact him and _personally_ appoint him head tactician for this battle!" Purple turned to Red, who shrank back in fear of the apparent insanity in the other's eyes.

"I very much think that your decision was in poor taste, Red. If you don't think that Zim can do the job, then name me one single Irken that _can!!_" Purple stormed out of the conference room, the anger almost tangible as he departed. Red looked down and found that he was shivering with reaction.

He looked at the advisors, who were staring back at him with a mix of respect and curiosity. He managed to find enough of his voice to utter a single phrase of misgiving, hatred and perhaps even fear.

"Mother of Irk...we're doomed..."


	6. The Shattered Window

Zim stared at the dead monitor, the hateful grin of Tallest Red still etched into his mind's eye. Maybe he truly needed to die, so that the Empire might benefit from a badly needed morale boost. While he was wrestling with the concept of his own death and the potential benefits of such, GIR's high pitched voice screeched across the observation deck.

"MASTER! The Tallest wants to talk with ya!" The innocent robot ran up to Zim, and was grabbed forcefully by his antenna. Zim brought the defective SIR Unit's face to his, the Irken's hatred almost tangible in the room. Innocent cyan eyes stared into angry magenta orbs, and for a moment neither of them moved.

Zim started speaking to GIR, his voice growing into a yell by the time he finished. "GIR, what did I tell you about CALLING THE _TALLEST!?_" Not even waiting for a response, the Irken threw GIR across the room, where he landed in a crying heap of abused alien metal.

Tallest Purple's face blinked on the once dead monitor, and his eyes were filled with worry and fear. "Now Zim, don't talk like that! I want you to know that I'm risking my life to make this important call. If Red finds out..." He shuddered, unable to finish the thought. "We need your help in..."

Zim stared harder, then snorted with derision. "You need my help? YOU need MY help!?" He glared at Purple, his anger having fully boiled over into a hateful harangue. "Does the Empire need me for a suicide mission? Well, let me burst your bubble, you cross dressing megalomaniac! I am no longer an Irken, and certainly not an Invader! You don't need my help, and neither does your entire race!" He laughed bitterly. "To think that I, Zim, was once a member of the glorious Irken Empire! Now I know that I am nothing more than a detested defective, scorned by all for my unforgivable crimes against the very people I thought I was aiding. I could care less about the glory of the Empire, and now I'm hoping that the Irken race is blown apart in a war they can't win!"

Purple stared at Zim, his eyes softening. A long silence followed the bitter tirade. When Purple spoke once more, his voice had gone even softer than his eyes. "Zim, I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way. What news I bring, then, I suppose would surely delight you.

"Yet this isn't the time to abandon your people, Zim! We need crucial information that only you can gather for us, and we need it as soon as possible. For the sake of our race's continued existence, Zim! Lend us a hand!"

Zim snorted once more before speaking. "Have you the brain worms? I thought I made my intentions clear to your rotting brain meats. As far as the Empire is concerned, I'm free to live my life orbiting this miserable ball of dirt. I refuse to lift a finger to help any Irken, and if I could find a way to remove my Pak without dying a humiliating death, I would do it in less time than it takes for you to choose between the nachos or curly fries!

"I'm not helping you! Find some other sucker to bail your race out of whatever disaster is happening!" He glared at Purple, who even millions of parsecs away from Earth, cringed under the Invader's hateful glance. "I'm only going to say this once. I have my most deadly weapons aboard this orbital fortress primed and ready. Any Irken that dares enter Earth's orbit will be destroyed without a care. All transmissions using Irken Wave will be blocked. If you have nothing good to say about what I have done in the name of the Mother, then you and the rest of your race can kiss my green ass!"

With a gloved fist, Zim smashed the off button on the transmission console. He turned to another computer and, typing furiously, entered the initial commands to make his fortress impregnable from Irken hands. He spoke aloud as he typed.

"Computer, redirect all Irken Wave transmissions to Channel 6, local base coordinates. Arm the plasma arrays and lock the IFF transponders to read Irken power core signatures as enemy vessels." He growled with anger. _At last,_ the Invader thought to himself, _that horrible monkey now serves a purpose to me..._


End file.
